“You,” the tone of his voice gruff and breathless.
“I asked first.” She said, surprised to see him smiling at her.
“I meant it’s you that I think of when ... when I do that.”
She gave him a tentative grin of her own. “When you jerk your cock?”
“Jesus.” Had he heard her right?
Her body arched tightly against his and he braced his hands on her hips, eyes staring at her chest.
“Yer b..bre..bosoms,” his face flushed scarlet, and Claire fought against a giggle —bosoms! “The first time I saw ye, in that wee white slip? Twas drenched wi’ rain as ye came toward me, cross the hearth, there was a moment the light caught ye just so,” Jamie’s eyes took on a soft dreamy glow and he gave her a lusty sigh. “I could see yer nipples dark and hard underneath. I wanted to hold yer breast in my palm, wondering would it feel heavy or was it light as air?”
His eyes remained fixed on her cleavage and she felt her sex twitch. Her nipples were straining against the stays she hadn’t gotten used to wearing yet.
“And you wanted to put your hands on them?”
“Cup one in your palm and flick a thumb over the hard, tight point?”
Mmphm , Jamie licked his lips, eyes intent. His cock pulsed and throbbed under her. He liked the talking.
“Would you have licked all the rain away, or slurped each drop off like you were drinking hot tea, do you think?” She queried, the strained, frantic noise that rose from his throat hit her down low.
“Y—ye ken that wouldna ha’ helped a bit...For no matter which I chose, ye’d still be wet ,” he pronounced with a particular emphasis, “in any case.”
“True enough ...and hard as icicles.” She agreed. “Still, your mouth would have been so warm and my skin was practically frozen. Why you could have gone forever swirling and twirling your tongue, licking them like an ice cream cone, and I wouldn’t have melted.” Claire’s eyes were far away.
Daft talking, Sassenach, Christ, she was making him want to spill.
“I dinna ken what an ice cream cone is.” He admitted drooling over the thought of further explanation. She laughed.
“Its a very cold dessert made with cream though sometimes with shaved ice and fruit. Fromage I think they call it in France,” Claire said, remembering an old story she’d heard while stationed overseas during the war.
“Och,” Jamie said comprehension dawning, “Sorbet. When I was at Université
in Paris I went to a grand ball hosted by my uncle. Lemon, it was that time. I got goose flesh from the chill.” Jamie shivered.
“That night on the horse, I was one big goosebump all over.” The skin on her upper arms broke out in remembered sympathy.
“Were ye, now?” Jamie asked bringing the nail of one finger along her throat, reminding her of where she had been going with that story.
“I was, everywhere, especially my nipples. They are just as hard right now.” She told him, sweeping her fingers across the fabric of her dress. Jamie made a sound like a growl. To bring such a man to his knees was so darkly thrilling, it sent waves of longing through her body.
“Touch them for me,” he rasped. Forthright and spirited, he’d seen that much when they met. But he never imagined her this bold, nor that she could push him this far, either. He thanked the stars she’d crossed his path that day.
Claire gave him a coquettish upsweep of her eyes as she dipped her hand into the vee between her breasts and teasingly walked her fingers across her breast. Though the bodice kept her covered, he could tell she was pinching her nipple between her middle and index fingers. Claire moaned and her eyes closed in blissful appreciation. He watched the delicate movement of her wrist, the flicker and release of her hand, a longer squeeze of her fingers and he knew she was playing with just the very tip of her nipple.
“Feels delicious.” She told him.
His palm itched. He wanted very badly to touch her but had never played this game and didn’t know the rules. Just then her shoulders hunched and a curl came free tumbling down and coming to rest just above her heart. He reached up, letting the back of his knuckles casually stroke along her neck.
“Yer hair,” he said.
“Uh-hum?” Claire felt a feather light touch of fingertips against the tendrils curling against the hollow of her throat. Her eyes popped open but he was focused on twirling the strand around his finger.
“The way it smells...different.” Jamie finally settled on.
“Different how?” Claire wondered.
“Dinna ken, but bonnie,” he hastened to assure her, “even in the wind and the rain, I noticed it.” Jamie chuckled in amusement, “I spent half that night wi’ my nose pressed against the back of yer head, sure ye’d hear me snuffling like a pig o’er a truffle.” His eyes cast sideways and caught hers.
“You could have eaten it and I wouldn’t have realized anything amiss, I was so cold and tired by then.”
“I was boiling, wi’ yer plump arse pressed tight to my thighs.” Jamie clenched her hair tightly in his fist and it was clear his comments regarding her backside were meant as praise not insult. “Feeling ye bouncing up and down on my...lap.”
“This jog your memory?” Claire wondered and proceeded to grind up and down along his cock. She was speaking daft again, but he understood her meaning.
“I havena forgotten a second of it, Sassenach,” he assured her. “The mere sight of ye turns my cock to stone. Its a wonder I havena done it grave injury, the poor wee thing, knocking into walls and posts whenever ye come into view.” Claire giggled.
“Poor wee thing, is it?” She circled her hips with lewd determination and they both released unbridled cries of excitement. It had been far too long for her and she needed release. He was huge, eager and firm and it was exceedingly gratifying to have such a gorgeous man panting after her like this, obviously as desperate as she for much the same reason.
“Aye, verra wretched indeed, believe you me. To finally have been close enough to touch a lass and she might as well ha’ been the moon for all the good it did him to say nothing of me and all my gentlemanly intentions. For I have tried, Sassenach, to pretend ye dinna make my knees wobble and my skin prickle wi’ the memory of yer touch. I keep my eyes to the ground so ye canna see how they burn when I watch ye.”
Claire’s hands clenched on his shoulders, her breasts brushing against his chest but it wasn’t enough. She jutted her hips forward, her wet sex desperate to feel his cock sliding against its sensitive nerves.
“But it was all for naught, aye?” he admitted, “for ye’ve uncovered my shame and admitted yer own.”
“Does this feel like shame to you?” She demanded.
“God, no!” Jamie’s hands clenched on her upper thighs, spreading her apart, the last of her underskirt pulling up and over her arse. Jamie couldn’t look away and when the smell of her arousal hit his nostrils, he moaned, helplesses.
“If its not shame then ...Jesus H Roo--” Claire broke off as sensation flooded her body. Almost...just a little more and she’d be there. “What-” Claire wailed unable to stop the keening sound from her mouth.
“I dinna ken if it is heaven or hell,” he told her as he pressed his forehead against hers, both dewey with sweat. “but oh God! Please, Claire,” Jamie moaned.
She could see the lashes of his eyes fluttering and jumped in surprise as his palms grabbed hold of her bare arse and he pulled her hard to him, over and over stroking her against his cock.
“Are you ker-handed in all things?” She asked, having heard the term used by Hamish MacKenzie during a recent lesson in sword fighting with his uncle Dougal. Jamie’s expression closed suddenly, unsure of where she was going. She raised her brow and wriggled her hips suggestively and rubbed her breast with her hand once more. Jamie’s face flushed.
“Oh, fer that , aye.”
Claire gave a hum of acknowledgement and put her mouth next to his ear. “Tomorrow night as you lay in your bed, I want you to use your right only.” She whispered suggestively. Jamie’s breath left his body in a pant.
“Yer being presumptuous.” He said striving for urbanity, the last refuge of a man that very much suspected she’d have him drooling on the floor in another minute or two and and he needed to preserve what dignity he could for the moment.
“Yes, I am.” She agreed, ignoring his half-hearted attempt at denial.”But we just agreed there is no shame in it. Heaven or hell is a very apt description. And as we’ll both end up in one of the two, I mean to enjoy the journey at least.” Jamie’s huge grin enjoying her wit made her stomach flip. Oh yes, Claire knew, she was going to lead this one on a merry chase indeed.
“Everything in the right hand will be different,” she told him, “the amount of downward pressure, the angle of your pull, how the meat of your hand and reach of your fingers grip over your skin. None of it familiar, almost as if someone else is doing it for you.” A great silent shudder rolled through Jamie’s body.
“And you don’t have to pretend any longer, for you know exactly what it feels like to be the horse I’m riding.” Claire return his grin, seeing the slack-jawed expression on his face but found him just as capable of stunning her to silence a monment later as he cantored up into her pushing himself against her sex and circling her hips to prolong the sensation, her orgasm inevitable...but not quite yet. “Except now you will know of a certainty how the touch of you on me makes me hot, and the sounds I make as you pleasure me, how my arse fills your fingers as you squeeze and pull me closer. All of these things you’ve imagined a dozen times.”
“At least.” Jamie grunted. His forehead was slick with sweat and she could feel the damp tendrils framing his face against her cheek.
“You still don’t know what my lips taste like, or whether I’ll slip my tongue into your mouth when you finally kiss me. You’ll drive yourself mad wondering how it feels when my nipple puckers under your finger and you can’t wait to find out. They’ll be some hard choices to make, of course-- should you picture me straddling face to face or whether you still prefer the back way.” This got her a startled chuckle.She hunched over him riding him harder as her fingernails gripped the linen of his shirt tightly enough to leave marks. “But you’ll console yourself with the knowledge of things you’d never thought of and won’t be able to stop remembering. The warmth of the air as I pant against your neck and the rush of coolness prickling against your skin when you steal my breath and the smell of my sex when you have roused me so much I soak through my smalls.”
“Mother of Bride, Sassenach ye’ll make me spend!” Jamie stared at her lips, wanting so badly to kiss them, wanting even more to hear what they said next. Her scent was intoxicating, at this point, but he could also detect his own, and if she was soaked, he rather thought a bit of that was due to him as well. He could feel his balls squeeze tighter. Claire’s back rippled with delight, obviously enjoying working them up.
“Uh-hum, and soon, and then again when you are alone. I doubt you’ll be able to hold off until tomorrow evening.” She predicted. “No matter. but from the moment you decide you can’t wait any longer and start to hike your kilt up your long thighs and bend your knees, remember how much I’ll wish I was there watching you spread yourself open, with your hands switched around and the unfamiliar one cupping your balls. How wet I will get listening to you grunting and moaning and how deeply it affects me seeing the changes that come over your face as you lose yourself in your pleasure.”
“Sassenach, I canna stop myself,” he warned, a hard edge in his tone sending her to toward the brink. To his utter shock her hands left his shoulders and she cusped her palms against the backs of his hands, urging him to part her buttocks wider, the better to feel him spend.
“Now, Jamie,” Claire choked out. He felt her shake as she arched back against his arms, her throaty whimper covering his own as she felt his release pulsing against her backside.